


*They Don't Know playing on the radio*

by BabeManicone



Category: swirlcorp
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabeManicone/pseuds/BabeManicone
Summary: I........hated the original so i re-wrote it and its still slightly flavorless BUT.....yes
Relationships: u kno :)
Kudos: 2





	*They Don't Know playing on the radio*

“Why couldn’t your mother's favorite color be something normal? Why turquoise? Why couldn’t she adore pink? Then we’d have something in common and I’d have something to wear.” Beyoncé whines from the inside of her constantly growing closet in Jordan’s house. His family will be coming over for dinner the very next day (Beyoncé’s idea, certainly not his), and the preparation has already hit a few bumps in the road.

“And nobody even looks good in turquoise? So she’s just being difficult?”

She’s not looking for an answer really, this line of complaining has been going on for the better part of an hour with no end in sight but Jordan is polite enough to engage with her.

“I think you would look beautiful in any color.” 

It’s not as elaborate as his usual compliments but for good reason, Jordan is trying to stay in the present, to remember every detail his mind will allow. The thin strap of Beyoncé’s top that has slid down off of her shoulder, how the shorts she wears would be better off classified as underwear. Usually, he would see to it that these things were cast to the floor and that all of her worries are lost to the feeling of his mouth traveling to taste the sweetness of her skin but today he’ll resist that urge. As difficult the task may be he’s busy adding this moment to a mental list.

“Jordan, please. I don’t care what you think.”

“Just like my mother won’t care if you wear turquoise.” 

Her eyes squint and she turns completely so Jordan can get the full weight of what she says next. “Oh she will care, maybe not now but when we’re bonding over a home cooked meal—desert aside—and she glances over and just can’t believe I wore her favorite color. It will be like fate and years later she will always remember it and she will absolutely care.”

Jordan blinks. “Are you threatening my mother?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah. ‘She will care or else.’ That’s what I heard.”

Her lips quirk into a smile. “You said it, not me.”

Jordan edges towards the door frame of the closet and plants a short kiss on her forehead. “My point was that my family isn’t worth the burden.”

Beyoncé rolls her eyes. “You can say that, you’re their family, I’m a stranger.”

“You’ve met my dad.”

“In passing and the other time he called just to yell at me to put you on the phone.”

Jordan places his hands over his heart. “He already considers you family.”

“You’re not funny and I don’t have anything to wear so when your parents come over I’ll be greeting them in pasties and a thong.”

Jordan shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Ohmygod, you never stop being nasty.”

He laughs. “You imagined it, not me.”

“Jordan, this is serious.” Beyoncé huffs and flops down to the floor in her expected dramatic fashion. 

She looks desperately sad and he can’t bear to see it without attempting to help. He’s already offered several times to simply buy her a turquoise dress and each time he’s been shot down for, what he suspects are, falsely modest reasons.

“You know my mom likes other colors…”

She opens her eyes. “Really?”

“Of course.”

Beyoncé sits up. “Jordan. Really?”

“...Yes.”

“Okay then, name one.”

“She’s quite fond of...she likes...I’m sorry, she’s actually very particular.”

“This is a disaster.” Then she’s back on the floor.

He chooses his next words very carefully, “If I was to call in a favor the dress would be at our doorstep by tomorrow.”

“Call in a favor where? I looked, nobody’s got one.”

“I know people.”

“The last thing I need is you swooping in and buying me something. I gotta look independent.”

“You’re plenty independent.”

“To who? I work at your stupid company, I live in your stupid house and drive your stupid cars.”

Her words sting as they always do whenever she refers to something they share as ‘his’. He plans to solve that problem sooner than later but presently he’ll have to endure it. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I look like a gold digger.”

“If that was the case you’d be a shitty one.”

“Good! So I can’t ask you for anything else for the next two days.”

“Understood.”

“Except for you to drive me to the grocery store and then pay for these groceries.”

“But after that, for sure.

She smiles. “You get me.”

* * *

The arrival of Jordan’s family is only hours away and Beyoncé stands toe to toe with a whole uncooked Tyson’s chicken. Her dog, Buttercup, circles her ankles hungrily as she holds it away from her like a smelly infant and swallows a pathetic sob, instead calling out for Jordan to witness her plight. 

“It’s so...SLIMY!”

He comes jogging downstairs and has to stifle a laugh. “You’ve been down here an hour and this is as far as you’ve made it?”

“We can’t all be Emeril Lagasse, Jordan!”

“I offered to help.”

“Buttercup is all the help I need, thank you. I just need you to call my mom and put her on speakerphone.”

“At your service.” 

He walks out the room dialing her number, Beyoncé turns a light shade of green as a melting chunk of ice falls from a wing to her sock, she is pulled from her disgust by fragments of the conversation between Jordan and her mother.

“Celestine, you flatter me.” He comes floating back into the kitchen and leans against the counter. “Oh, stop. Celestine, I could say the same for you.”

She narrows her eyes in his direction and he simply turns his back to her, laughing obnoxiously. “You’re terrible! I’m laughing aren’t I?”

“Jordan.”

“I’m afraid she wants to talk to you...she’s cooking. That’s what I said...you’ve got to admire-,”

“Buttercup, don’t ever get a man.” Buttercup blinks and Beyoncé can take that as an assurance that one of Jordan’s loafers will get chewed beyond recognition tonight.

“I’m having dessert catered, it’s far too import—”

“JORDAN. Can I speak to MY mommy, please?”

She catches him rolling his eyes when he turns around. “Bye darling.” 

“Thank you.” She waits for him to round the corner before speaking again,“Mama, this chicken is on steroids.” 

Tina guides her through this chicken catastrophe and even through a few side dishes, she feels pretty confident by the time she gets off the phone. So confident that she has to brag about a job well done and sets off in search of Jordan.

“-And then, I had to put seasoning under the skin and so I lifted the skin- and it was so GROSS.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And I didn’t even cry taking out the gizzards. I’m a regular ol’ Martha Stewart.”

“With prettier eyes and a better figure.”

She stops pulling up her jeans to waddle over and reward her boyfriend with a kiss, amazed at how he always knows just the right thing to say. 

He does up the buttons on her white blouse because the last thing she needs right now is to break a nail.

“How do I look?” She spins around and Jordan nods in approval.

“I like it.”

Her face falls. “You don’t love it?”

“It’s missing something.”

“Well since I can’t go full Dynasty glam I’m trying to win them over with a little cozy southern hospitality moment,” She kicks up her leg ,“Look at my boots.”

“I get the picture but…”

“I’ve got a jacket with fringe on it somewhere.”

He guides her over to face the mirror. “I was thinking more towards jewelry.” He dangles a pair of chandelier earrings and a matching necklace in front of her eyes. They’re beautiful, sure, but the best part is they’re turquoise.

Beyoncé looks heavenwards. “Lord excuse my language: Get the EFF outta here! Jordan! I can’t believe you-” 

The rest of her reaction is unintelligible due to her face being squished into the side of his neck while she hugs him.

“You like it?”

“I could hump you like a whale.”

“Wow, sure. Okay.”

The doorbell rings, making Buttercup bark excitedly and she tears away from him and nearly stumbles down the stairs. “Finish getting ready.”

She looks through the peephole and Jordan’s mom is classier than she even imagined. She wears pearls around her neck and looks like she moisturizes with the tears of angels. His sisters are no different, they coordinated outfits and Beyoncé would bet a lot of someone else’s money that they didn’t even plan it.

Okay, Beyoncé thinks. Yes they can probably buy her childhood home with the combined price of their clothes but— no disrespect to Jordan’s mother— she can’t quite stand next to Tina on Easter Sunday. Okay, she can do this.

She opens the door, pushing Buttercup away by his chunky bottom and choosing in her head the sweetest way to say hello. There are two young boys behind them, one with headphones on who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else and the other busily playing a game.

“God, finally.” One of his sisters, the short one pushes past Beyoncé. 

His mother looks horrified and the taller sister looks horrified. “Vivian!” 

“Mom! I have to pee.” She disappears down one hallway only to circle back and head for the next.

“That’s not ladylike.”

“Is pissing on the doorstep ladylike?” She tries the door to the basement and Beyoncé sees her opportunity to instantly become her best friend.

She points to the next door. “Bathroom.”

Vivian runs inside, throwing a thanks over her shoulder and before Beyoncé can perform her dazzling rendition of a ‘you’re welcome’, the door is slammed shut.

“Okay.”

Beyoncé feels fabric being pushed into her hands. 

“Take my coat dear.”

Jordan’s mom is now inside. Looking at things. Seeing what’s different since the last time she’s visited.

She turns to her daughter, the taller one, with her nose wrinkling. “She redecorated.”

“And it's tacky.”

Behind them, Beyoncé’s mouth hangs open. Was she invisible? Was she dreaming this whole thing?

Jordan comes running down the stairs and into his mother's arms. “Mumm—,” he coughs, clears his throat, “Mother.”

She kisses him on the cheek. “Your father’s on his way in.”

“Did you have a safe trip?”

“Lisa drove. I almost fell ill.”

Beyoncé nods, the sister she doesn't like is named Lisa, it will be committed to memory.

“But anyways, where is this lovely girl you’ve been telling me about?”

Jordan’s brows knit together and Beyoncé fixes her face before he turns in her direction. “Right there?”

Beyoncé waves, “Hi.” She waits expectantly for an apology, some butt kissing, anything really.

“Oh.”

“OH?” Beyoncé lets out before she can think better of it. 

He rips away from his mother’s touch and instead moves to stand next to Beyoncé, she wraps her arms around him and tries to look more like a wounded puppy. It works—Jordan kisses her gently on the forehead and sends his mother a shame-filled glare.

Vivian comes back in, the toilet flushing behind her. “What’d I miss? Why’s he hugging the maid?”

“She is NOT the maid.”

“Yeah! I’m not the maid!”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah! I’m his girlfriend.” Jordan gives her a quick thumbs up. 

“Mother, Viv, Lisa, this is Beyoncé. Beyoncé, this Lisa, Vivian and our mother Anne.”

Anne shoots him a deadly glare. 

“And my half-brother’s Austin and Tyron.”

Beyoncé gives a “hi” that can only be described as sour.

Tyron frowns,“It’s Ty.” He’s the oldest of the two boys.

The doorbell rings and his mother goes to open it. “It’s your father.”

Jordan rubs Beyoncé’s back encouragingly, “Now he’ll know you.”

A tall, relatively young man with tan colored skin steps inside holding a bouquet of flowers. Jordan grows tense, the man places a loud, puckering kiss on Anne’s cheek and Beyoncé understands why.

She squeezes his bicep and attempts to whisper through her excitement. “Oh My God, is that your stepdad?”

“No”

“Jordan, dear come say hello to Keegan.”

Jordan doesn’t move from his spot. “Hello, Keegan.”

Oh, this is absolutely Jordan’s stepdad. Beyoncé can save this moment if she’s quick enough. “Those are beautiful flowers.”

“Oh thank you!” He makes his way over and pats Jordan on the shoulder, “You must be the girlfriend I’ve heard so much about.”

She smiles bashfully. “I am.” 

“I didn’t tell you shit about my girlfriend.”

Jordan’s mother gasps. “Watch your mouth.”

Beyoncé nudges his arm. “That was a little rude.” 

Keegan shrugs, like he expects this type of behavior from Jordan. “You’re as beautiful as advertised.”

Beyoncé loves Jordan’s stepdad. “Let me get some water for these.”

Jordan nearly snatches the bouquet from Keegan’s hands. “I’ve got it.”

“...Okay, then I guess...I’ll show you around? You can see everything I changed.”

Anne watches Jordan stomp towards the kitchen. “Sure.”

Not to pat herself on the back this early in the game but Beyoncé is kind of killing this house tour. She’s naming art and fancy designers, even tricking Austin and Ty into making conversation with her. It probably says a lot about her that she has so much in common with a 12 and 15 year old but it’s nothing she cares to dwell on.

They’re in the dining room while Beyoncé monologues about the chandelier when they hear the doorbell again. It’s not lost on Beyoncé that Lisa and Austin share a relieved look but neither is Anne winding up the same way Jordan did moments before.

Jordan comes full speed out of the next room, pulling Beyoncé along with him, speaking louder than necessary. “My father is here, Beyoncé come meet my father.”

She’s a little confused. “I thought we didn’t like your dad,” she says low enough that only he can hear.

“We don’t but we like my stepdad less.”

“But won’t that make your mother upset?”

“She chose her side when she brought him.” He pulls open the door and before any mistakes can be made, he’s introducing her. “Dad! This is my girlfriend, Beyoncé. You remember Beyoncé, don’t you?”

Beyoncé reaches out and shakes his hand weakly. 

Mark Sullivan has not changed much since she last saw him, he’s still tall and even oddly handsome. Beyoncé pauses. Would she kiss Jordan’s dad? Like if he was 20 years younger? No...but is she sure? She has much to think about as Jordan would say. When Mark speaks he verifies Jordan’s claims of hailing from Staten Island. He’s almost Jordan’s opposite, you get the bloodthirsty businessman type feel from him rather quickly. 

“Oh. This Beyoncé.”

Beyoncé frowns. “It’s not a common name.”

He kisses the back of her hand. “Nice to see you, doll.”

Beyoncé does like him slightly more than she likes Anne. It's not a competition although if it was, Mark would be winning.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“I never forget a face.”

She wants to ask if he forgot cursing her out on the phone that one time but instead leads him into the dining room. Anne sits with Keegan who is rubbing gentle circles into her hand, their two sons next to them. Mark walks in, he and Anne make eye contact, the room suddenly feels cold. The way Mark greets Lisa and Vivian is noticeably warmer than the way he ever speaks to Jordan. It makes Beyoncé angry for him, she holds his hand with both of hers and places her cheek against his shoulder. A silent show of solidarity.

“This is everyone, right?”

Anne finishes checking her reflection in her compact mirror and turns her attention to Mark. 

“Oh, I don’t know, let’s see. Mark, did you bring your toddler-aged girlfriend with you?”

“She is an adult woman.”

“How old is she again? 20?”

Mark’s voice wavers. “21.”

“She’s younger than your son, Mark. Hell, how old are you Bianca? “

There are several pairs of eyes on Beyoncé right now and not in the way she’d like. 

“Umm, well, actually it’s pronounced Beyoncé and I guess it would depend on what month...she was born.” She tries softening the blow, Mark is her only chance at another ally.

It falls short.

Anne snorts. “That’s essentially what you’re dating.”

That cements it. Jordan’s mom is a B-Word. Mark and Anne resume bickering and Jordan moves close to her ear. 

“I don’t think I can take this much longer.”

She shakes her head quickly. “It’s fine.”

“Say the word and I’ll make them leave.”

“I can make it through dinner,” she assures him and squeezes his hand for good measure.

Jordan gives her a contemplating look before going against himself. “Let’s make it quick.”

He whisks a wine glass from the table and taps a fork against it a few times and if Beyoncé knew anything from movies whatever he said next would be super important and super fancy.

Austin finally puts down his Game Boy and Tyron rolls his eyes as he takes off his headphones.

“Beyoncé was nice enough to prepare a meal for us all and I think we should all do her a favor and eat at quickly as possible so you can all go home and be miserable separately as God intended.”

Tyron and Vivian clink empty glasses. “Amen.”

Not quite what Beyoncé had in mind but his accent can class up everything. 

Lisa pipes up. “Where’s that chunky little dog from earlier?”

A chill creeps up Beyoncé’s spine, Buttercup has been absent and worse than that he’s been quiet. Her mind flickers to the chicken sitting out on the counter and then she’s running full speed into the kitchen. 

It’s a horror scene, Buttercup has nearly cleaned the bones of this poor smothered chicken and now lies on the tile flooring on his back, a victim of his own crime.

Beyoncé is shocked silent. Jordan comes behind her and can’t find much to say either aside from muttering that he told her to get rid of this dog.

When Beyoncé pulls herself from silently facing an empty wall she has devised a plan. She places the sides onto a rolling tray. The plan is to just lie.

Jordan picks through the ravaged flesh of this chicken. “It looks like it tasted great if that makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t.” 

“Your mother wants to know—Oh, shit!”

Beyoncé turns mortified to see Ty in the doorway looking excited for the first time since he’d arrived. Actually, a little overjoyed.

Beyoncé waves a serving spoon dangerously. “Don’t say a word.”

“What the fuck?”

“MMM-MM! You didn’t see anything.”

He looks at Jordan. Jordan seems as startled as he is.

She pushes this cart of lonely sides into the dining room with a smile only a pageant winner could muster at a time like this. 

“I’m dabbling in vegetarianism,” she says, forcefully spooning mashed potatoes onto Keegan’s plate.

He looks genuinely interested. “Really? How long has it been?”

“Eat.” 

Austin squints. “There’s bacon in here.”

“I said dabbling.”

A splatter of gravy goes from her plate to Anne’s blouse and the table falls silent as the two women meet eyes. 

“I think we can both agree you deserved that.”

“I—”

In a split second she’s turned into her own mother. “I don’t wanna talk.” 

Once she’s served everyone filling portions of mashed potatoes and string beans and after she’s made them sit through an extensive prayer, she sits next to Jordan. He feeds her individual string beans and occasionally but “accidentally” kicks at Keegan under the table the way a child would.

“I don’t know about you all but these are the best potatoes that I’ve had in a long while.”

Beyoncé swallows a grin. “Stop it.”

Tyron snickers. “Imagine if we had a main dish.”

“This is the main dish to me.” Jordan takes a rather dramatic spoonful of string beans and talks with a full mouth. “Delightful!”

She elbows him playfully and he almost chokes. “You’re pushing it.”

“I can’t keep it to myself, I’m just so full! You know the way to a man's heart is through the stomach, right dad?”

Mark nods, “Denise is a wonderful cook.”

Anne scoffs, “She’s a college student. She makes ramen.”

“She makes sophisticated ramen.”

Beyoncé adds in her two cents, “I think she sounds lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“You have a lot in common,” Lisa’s eyes narrow as she speaks and Vivian frowns.

“I don’t mind Denise, she’s sweet and I sort of like you Bey...Beyon...what’s-your-name.” 

“Thank you!”

She gives Beyoncé a sturdy headnod, “You’re welcome, doll.” 

  
  


Jordan rubs her shoulder, “Everyone should because I plan to have her around for a long time-,” he gives her an oddly intense look, “-as long as she’d have me.”

The table falls eerily silent and Beyoncé feels hyper-visible once again. “...Oh, that was a question? Okay, yeah, sure. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jordan plants a loud, wet kiss on her cheek and stands up. “Alright, fun’s over. Let’s say our goodbyes.”

“Aw, Jordan we didn’t get to do-,” Beyoncé starts and is quickly shut down by the furious shaking of Jordan’s head. “Never mind.”

* * *

One by one, Beyoncé sends his family off not quite sad to see them go.

Jordan’s dad gives her a very long and nearing uncomfortable hug.

Vivian gives Beyoncé her phone number and a questionably suggestive wink.

Lisa watches on as that happens and exits rolling her eyes. 

Tyron hugs Buttercup goodbye and tells this dog that he made his night before pivoting to Beyoncé. “Much respect.”

“Awww!”

“You’re ruining it,” he says and to that Beyoncé zips her lips closed.

Austin catches his father subtly holding up a fist in Beyoncé’s direction and groans on his way out the door.

“It’s nice to not be the only one.” Beyoncé can’t argue with that and when she sees that Jordan has disappeared she gives him a quick hug. 

Then there’s Anne, Beyoncé is prepared for her to just leave without any goodbye and she almost does but she stops before hitting the welcome mat.

“You know, you’re not the worst one he’s had.”

“...I’m not?”

“Not quite.” Her eyes turn to slits. “I’m sure you know he’s not a strong man, emotionally speaking so getting him to love you doesn’t take much.”

“I...would disagree.”

“Of course you would, neither of you are very sharp.”

Before Beyoncé can voice how offensive that is, Anne adds on. 

“You clearly seem to love him back and he may not like it but he’s still my son so it...counts for something.”

Beyoncé's lips tug into a smile, she’s almost proud of herself. “Thanks.”

“No more about it.” Anne squeezes her arm and pauses, her focus turning to Beyoncé’s ears. “Is that turquoise?”

She is actually very proud now. “Yes and so is the necklace.”

“I love that color.” It’s very flat but that doesn’t stop Beyoncé from dancing as soon as she closes the door.

“That went well.”

She's swaying, eyes closed and wiggling arms so she misses Jordan kneeling behind her. 

“I’m not gonna say ‘I told you so’ but I did kind of tell you so.”

He reaches up and takes her left hand in his. “You were right and I was wrong.”

“You’re getting so good at saying that,” she quips before turning to face him. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m trying to do this the romantic way if that’s alright with you.”

“...Do what the romantic way?”

“Giselle, please.”

“My bad.”

He digs in three out of four pockets and finds the ring in the fourth quickly retaking her hand. 

“Beyoncé?”

“I’m gonna be quiet and let you finish right after this, that sucker is HUGE. Are you kidding me?”

“Too big?”

  
“No! Please go on, I’m done.”

He clears his throat and gets back into the swing of things. “Do you remember when I told you I held a special place in my heart for you?”

She nods swiftly. 

“I had only known you for a few days and it turns out that was a fiction.” He stops and sighs and Beyoncé’s smile drops, this moment seems to be turning sad.

  
Thankfully, Jordan just has his mother’s flair for the dramatic. “You have more than a place in my heart because you are my heart.”

“Awwww!”

“I took a stroll down to the library the other day and I found out the characteristics of the human heart and you quite fit the bill. You’re vibrant, you never rest, you rid me of wast-,”

“Baby, I love you so much but please wrap it up and ask me so I can say yes.”

Jordan huffs out a laugh. “I was prepared to go down the list but the last one was going to say that you are essential to my being and I can’t live without you, nor do I want to, and so on.”

“Blah, blah, blah.”

“Exactly. Now, will you please marry me?”

“Uh? Yes! I thought you’d never ask.”

Jordan slides the ring onto her finger and she notices it’s wet. 

“It was in a cake but I got impatient.”

**Author's Note:**

> c'mon second completed project in 2020!


End file.
